


Bridges – Drarry

by sicklyrose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sicklyrose/pseuds/sicklyrose
Summary: Set during the Half Blood Prince (sixth year), Draco Malfoy has tough decisions to make. On top of a mission for Lord Voldemort, Draco finds himself in a battle bettween the good and the bad parts of himself.In order to survive he has to chose: stay alive or risk it all for the love of his life?One thing is for sure, Draco Malfoy is going to burn some bridges in the end.*DOES INCLUDE SPOILERS*





	1. Dances With Wolves

Draco’s POV

The underwater view from the Slytherin common room is still doing nothing to appease my boredom and it’s nearly midnight. I need time to think and go over the supposed plan for taking down Dumbledore—the greatest wizard of all time. 

“Merlin’s beard! You’re still here, Draco?” Goyle obnoxiously shouts from the side of the common room. Heads pop up from behind books and turn to stare at me. As if everyone needs to know my business.

“Actually, Goyle, I was just leaving. Don’t look for me.” My cronies have become very interested in my whereabouts this year. It’s exhausting, all the lying and sneaking about. But if I fail to complete my task, I will lose more than my life.

I grab my black cloak from a nearby hook and stroll confidently out of the dungeons, aware of my name being whispered by at least a dozen pairs of lips.

Of course I pick the worst night to go wondering about the castle. Flocks of people crowd the halls, some in dress robes and others in pajamas. 

“Did you get invited?” A Ravenclaw girl asks a Hufflepuff boy as I pass. 

“No. Slughorn doesn’t care for my mum.” He replies.

Ah, Slughorn’s party. I pass his office once, twice, three times on my wonderings but each time a pang of loneliness shoots through me so terrifically that I’m tempered to walk right in.

Then I figure, what the hell? This is most likely my last year at Hogwarts. I might as well take some risks. 

I slip into the potion master’s office unnoticed. It takes less than two seconds to spot Granger, her bushy hair giving her away, and where there’s Granger there’s-

“I don’t recall you getting invited.” Harry Potter’s voice says from behind me. 

I turn to see his prestine dress robes, striking green eyes, and his messy black hair still as untamable as Granger’s. If I’m being honest, he’s the best looking person in the entire castle. Pity is, I’m not honest. 

“I don’t recall giving a shit.” I reach over him for some (spiked) butterbeer. I will be civil if he is.

“Whatever, Malfoy.” He starts to walk away. I need company and he’s the only one I really want to be with anyway. Who cares if he hates me?

“Where’s your sidekick?” I call after him. Potter turns around, visibly more angry than before.

“Could you give it a break for a night?” He says, exasperated. 

“If I could, I would.” I honestly mean it but something flashes in his eyes. That might have come out wrong.

Harry stomps over to me, clearly ready to shout a few choice words my way. We’re hardly more than a foot apart now and I swear I’ve never seen eyes like his. 

Green green green. I get lost in them and miss half of what he’s saying. I’ve fantasized about those eyes but they were never half as vibrant or full of emotion. I wish I could draw simply to have art like him with me always, on a scrap of paper in my pocket. 

I wish I could stop being a horrible person. Maybe then I’d have a chance- who am I kidding? It’s never going to happen.

Through the wordless stories of his green eyes, I notice that he stopped yelling. Harry looks at me with hesitation as if he’s not sure what to make of my silence.

I clear my throat but am saved the trouble of explaining. Once I turn and see my savior, however, I’m convinced I’m doomed to an even worse fate.

“And what is this? I daresay you do it for attention, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor,” Harry opens his mouth to protest but Professor Snape cuts in, “and detention for a week if you don’t leave my sights immediately.”

Harry swallows his pride and walks away. Snape turns to me and grabs my arm so hard I know there will be a bruise tomorrow.

“You’re coming with me, Draco.” He drags me down the corridor and into a dark, empty alcove.

I brace myself for what’s about to come but it does nothing to dull the pain as his hand comes down hard on my cheek.


	2. Hate Is A Strong Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning for abuse. Please read at your own risk. 
> 
> Not edited.

Why am I so stupid?

“Chop mandrake roots into fine pieces.”

My hands burn from scrubbing cauldrons—my detetion for sneaking into Slughorn’s party—but I go ham on the roots, imagining Snape’s face as I bring down the knife. 

“Add two drops of unicorn tears.” 

Unchecked anger threatens to explode out of me. A small weight of fear pushes against my heart. My hands shake as I open the vial and drop in the tears.

Do I care that Snape hit me? Yes. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. It bothers me that someone has so much power over me. Am I more upset that Harry keeps shooting me looks, as if he’s seen inside my soul? Yes. I want to destroy him. 

I want to curl into a ball and die. The heroic Harry Potter heard Snape punish me. He must think I’m weak. Like Snape, Mother, Aunt Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord think I am. 

“Stir clockwise for five minutes.”

My hands grip the ladle as I stare into the clear liquid, seeing nothing and everything all at once. 

I’m not weak. Am I? 

My eyes dart to the mess of black hair in the back of the room. An extraordinary pair of green eyes meet mine in a second but we break away at the same time. Despite myself, my heart beats out of my chest. Who am I, if I can’t even control my own heart?

“Impressive, Mr. Malfoy.” I pull my eyes from the potion to look at Professor Slughorn. He sniffs and stirs the liquid before nodding appreciatively.

“A perfect vertaserum. I daresay Professor Snape would be proud.” He walks away from the table to evaluate other students.

I pretend to observe the muted colors of the dungeon (as if I haven’t been here a hundred times) instead of meeting the gaze burning holes in the back of my head. This could be a problem. I’ll have to put him down quickly and quietly, lest he confide in his beloved Dumbledore that something odd is going on. 

The bell rings and we’re dismissed. Anxiety claws at my chest as I lead the three Gryffindors, two Ravenclaw, and one Slytherin to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I’m not too far lost in my thoughts to notice the familiar pair of trainers in step with me. These are the same shoes I spotted in the Slytherin compartment, before I broke the owner’s nose.

“Malfoy.” Harry hisses. As if I don’t know it’s him already. 

“Yes, Potter?” I ask as lazily as possible. To add to the effect, I shove my hands in my pockets and tip my head back, like I’m wearing a heavy crown.

“I know what happened after the party.” Not accusing, not mocking, sincere. I hate his guts. 

“What rubbish are you speaking of now?” I give a sad shake of my head. Harry Potter, the deranged little boy who lost his parents. I know I’m lying. But it feels like a punch to the gut when I see him doubt himself. 

“Words can change a person, Draco. I would advise you to use them more carefully from now on.” Dumbledore had told me. I wish I could remember all the warnings before I screw everything up. 

“I know what Snape did.” Harry whispers.

We reach the doors to Snape’s room before the others. I turn to face my mortal enemy, annoyingly aware of slightly height difference. 

“Listen, Potter, I don’t know what you’re playing at but if you tell another soul-“ he recoiled.

“Why would I?” He whispers and from the astonished look on his face, he didn’t mean to say it a loud.

I don’t have an answer. Speech has evaded me. As much as I try to turn him into a villain, the only monster here is me. Harry is simply a good guy. I don’t deserve his kindness and he doesn’t deserve my hatred. But it’s easier this way.

“I hate Snape just as much as you do,” he says empathetically. 

I take a step toward him, closing the gap once more. Slowly and pronouncing ever syllable, I say, “you know nothing about me, Harry Potter.”

The entrance to the classroom opens and Snape emerges. “Well, what are you all waiting for?”

-

“Stand still, Draco.” My father would command. I never heard him over my crying but I knew what to do. Punishments had always been the same. Before he left, I was able to take them without breaking down into tears.

“This is illegal!” I yelled when I was young and foolish. This only made it worse.

“Stand still...crucio.” Every five minutes for a half hour. During rests, he’d belittle me. Mother never stuck around for punishments, choosing to ignore that it happened at, with her gone he could do whatever he wanted.

“Muggle lover, letting that filthy mudblood do better than you in school.”

“I have to rely on a Weasley, of all people, to execute the Dark Lord’s plans. Why? Because my own son is too stupid, too weak to do it himself.”

“Turned into a ferret, disgusting squib. You can’t even defend yourself. You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy name and pure bloods everywhere.”

The Cruciatus Curse, while my father’s favorite form of punishment, wasn’t the only one. He was a fan of starvation and personally beating me to a pulp.

I can’t forget hands around my neck, a belt whipping my back, a fist to the face. I refuse to forget the horrors of Malfoy Manor.

-

A hand slams down on my desk. Milky white, no bruises or scars. The hand that hit me. 

I look into the emotionless eyes with rage and defiance. They stare back at me, deadly and warning me to calm down. The class is silent and—I realize with a jolt—empty. 

A shuffles sounds from the corner of the room and I turn to see Harry with his bag over his shoulder...waiting for me?

“Professor, Malfoy and I have detention right now with Hagrid.” His voice is impatient as he shifts from foot to foot. I don’t dare say anything in front of Snape but what the hell is this boy doing?

Snape straightens his spine to look impressive. “Is that so? And what ever for?” His words are like ice but his expression remains expressionless.

“Misbehaving on the Hogwarts Express about a week ago. Have you forgotten?” Harry replies smartly. 

“Of course not, Potter. I find great pleasure in remembering your blunders. Go now, both of you.” 

I grab my things and rush out of class, Harry at my heels. Once we’re out of earshot I turn to look at him.

“What the bloody hell was that?” I whisper-shout.

“That was me saving your spoiled behind.” He says angrily, grabbing my elbow and pulling me forward. I detect a note of pain in his voice and I feel more horrible than usual.

“Well, thank you, but where are we going? And why are you helping me?” I yank my elbow out of his grasp, his touch is unnerving. 

“We’re going to Hagrid’s.”


	3. Chapter 3- The First Punch

Draco.

I turn to face him the second we get to the giant’s hut. Those eyes, god. I hate him in ways I don’t think I understand yet. 

“What do you think you saw, Potter?” I drawl. I’m only a little curious—what did he see? My tattoo prickles on my arm and my heart beats just a tad faster. What did he hear?

Harry readjusts his glasses and fusses with his tie. “I saw Snape...” he trails off, grimacing. 

I raise an eyebrow. “The sun’s going down.”

“...hit you. I saw him hit you and I just wanted to let you know that I’mhereifyouneedme.” He rushes the last part so that all the words blend together into something unintelligible.

I put a hand on the bridge of my nose. Another decision, do I tell him the truth or push him further away? 

Per the Malfoy way, I build the bridge higher. But who am I trying to stop? Harry, or myself?

“Stop getting into things that do not concern you.” I draw myself up to my full height, like it matters. He still has a couple inches on me. 

“I’m trying to help.” He whispers in disbelief. I see his green eyes widen, betrayal written in every line on his face. 

“It’s not working!” I yell in his face. The memories of winter breaks and summer vacation, teasing him on the train to release the tension of going back to Malfoy Manor—back to my father.

“Well no one told you to be such a prat, Malfoy.” Harry gets red in the face, six years of anger boiling to the surface.

I don’t know who throws the first punch but my fists hurt and my lip is bleeding and a strong hand is pulling me off him but all I see are colored spots. 

When my vision clears, a bruised and bleeding Harry stands in front of me, his glasses broken and his nose a red mess. A black bruise blooms on his jaw and I hate that I notice his jawline. 

Hagrid’s moving his lips and then they’re both looking at me like they are waiting for an answer to a question.

I put a hand to my ear and it comes back red. I sway and a large hand holds me up. I feel faint. Harry puts up a good fight.

Darkness creeps into my vision but I manage to yank out my wand before I’m gone for good.

“Oculus reparo,” I whisper and point in the general direction of Harry. And then it’s black.

***

And then it’s bright. The sun shines through the infirmary, waking up all of my aching bones.

I moan into the darkness and wish for sleep. The sure steps of Madam Pompfrey grow louder and I groan.

“You seem well enough, Mister Malfoy. The headmaster would like to see you.” She casts spells as she says this, though I have no idea what she’s doing.

“That’s nice. So I’m done here?” I open my eyes and give her a Look.

She gives me her own Look and says “after you see Professor Dumbledore.”

I roll my eyes and slowly roll out of bed. Clean robes and my wand lie on the empty bed to my left. I shrug them on and leave the Infirmary with no intentions of seeing Dumbledore.

I cross the main entrance right as Harry Potter and company leave the Great Hall. His nose is fixed but his bruise remains, odd, but I don’t stare too long at him.

“Crabbe, Goyle,” I call to the two idiots stumbling behind him. They’re at my side immediately and we head down to the dungeons.

“Watch the doors. No one comes into the dormitory.” I order, pulling out my wand and looking important.

I shut the curtains the instant I walk into the room, not even bothering to take off my clothes as I collapse in bed. I don’t want to think about the look in Harry’s eyes, or the subtle way the Weasley elbowed Harry when he saw me. I don’t want to think about the bruise that highlights his prominent jawline, or his eternal bed head that looks so perfect you wonder if he did it on purpose. 

No, I don’t want to think about my growing attraction to Harry Potter. But I do.


	4. Chapter 4- Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is trash *facepalms* However, your encouraging words and all of the kudos have convinced me to continue writing.  
> Thank you for your support,  
> Destiny

Harry’s POV 

My wand is a steady comfort in my pocket. I grip the worn wood as I enter Defense Against the Dark Arts, my favorite and most dreaded class. 

I walk to Hermione and Ron, ignoring Snape and searching for Draco out of the corner of my eye. But there isn’t a shock of white-blond hair in the room. Bragging and taunts don’t echo off the walls. He isn’t here. Again.

A weight that feels similar to disappointment drops in my stomach and my thoughts chase themselves in circles. I rub my jaw where the bruise is very near gone. He fixed my glasses before passing out. Almost as if he regretted fighting me. But when had Malfoy ever almost apologized for something? 

“Harry!” Hermione whisper-shouts, elbowing me in the ribs as she does so. I look around and the whole class is in pairs, about to practice whatever spell Snape just introduced. 

I jump out of my seat and join Neville, letting him take the lead and trying to catch up. I’m not thinking of Draco. 

Snape appears next to me. “Your turn, Potter.”

My eyes find Hermione and I copy what she does—it’s a shot in the dark and I know it.

Instead of disarming Neville without muttering “expelliarmus”, I wave my wand like an idiot while the rest of the class sniggers.

“Well, well. The great Harry Potter can’t even do elementary wand work. Ten points from–“

BAM!

The classroom door opens and Draco enters looking worse for wear. Snape’s sneer disappears into a grim expression but he doesn’t dare question his favorite student as Malfoy throws his bag on the table and looks menacingly at everyone watching him. People hurriedly avert their gaze as he goes to hand Snape a note.

To his credit, Snape merely tucks the note into his robes and straightens his spine. “Longbottom, pair up with Granger and Weasley. Potter can catch you up,” he adds with a smug smile to Draco.

The class is silent, as we’re supposed to be when working on nonverbal spell casting. But unspoken arguments brew between us. 

Draco catches on almost instantly and within ten minutes has successfully disarmed me five times. I’m so angry I can’t think. The problem is, I don’t know exactly what I’m angry about. Draco and I fighting? His existence? My feelings? No, definitely not my feelings. Unless you can’t bring angry because I’m angry. 

“Focus, Potter.” He whispers as Snape comes nearer. I feel my scowl soften and put all of my attention into the spell.

His wand flies softly into my hand. I smile at him and he gives me a small grin in return. For a second, it’s as if we were life long best friends helping each other out in class. I suppose this is what it would have been like if I accepted his offer of friendship on the train all those years ago.

Someone coughs behind us and the spell breaks. Draco Malfoy is not my friend. He never has been and I just can’t imagine a world in which that would happen. 

So why, hours later when I’ve settled into my fourposter bed and drifted off to sleep, do I dream of that smile?

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh! My first fanfic ever! I’m excited but apprehensive about the process. I understand my writing isn’t perfect, nor do I expect it to be. Please be nice in the comments and I hope you’ll stick around for the rest of the story. -Destiny


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